Foreign
by JeSuisKierra
Summary: "She'd just talk this out with Kingsley and everything would be alright. It had to be. After all, she couldn't marry Sirius Black." Hermione/Sirius. Marriage law fic.
1. 01

**001**.

07.28.99

_Hermione_.

»

When had the simple act of breathing become so difficult?

Hermione Granger could not answer that question. For the struggle had come unexpectedly. Just like her acceptance letter into Hogwarts. Just like the kindle of her friendship with Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley. Just like the Battle of Hogwarts. Just like all of the deaths. Just like the arrival of the unyielding, silver envelope clutched in her thin fingers in that very moment.

She most certainly hadn't been expecting this.

She'd woken that morning to a seemingly normal day. Though she'd had a fitful night, battling futilely with her ruthless subconscious, just as she had been doing every night for the past year, she was able to inhale and exhale properly. Her heart was still beating gently in her chest, pumping warm blood through her veins. Her mind was blissfully blank with mingled grogginess and mild dejection for once. Most mornings, she woke with hammering headaches, which were a fraction of the aftermath of sobbing out her lingering hurt into her white pillow, and tear-stained cheeks.

Of course, her cheeks were tear-stained, but at least she was free of a migrane.

She felt that it was going to be a good day.

Fascinating, isn't it? How one's entire day can spiral down into an impenetrable sourness within seconds? Because that's all it took. Seconds to read the letter. Seconds to register the words. Seconds for her expression to contort with horror, confusion, and panic.

Even now, after nearly half an hour, she was still rooted to the ground, paralyzed by overwhelming shock. She was frozen. At first, her breathing had been erratic, matching the pace of her heartbeat. At first, she believed she was just dreaming.

Slowly, as her tired mind processed everything, the panic began to nestle into her bloodstream and course through her body. Soon enough, she was gasping dryly as angry sobs left her lips.

She wanted to slam the letter down on Shacklebolt's desk and demand he demolish the law. But how was she to do that if she couldn't breathe or move?

Of course, she had heard about the Ministry "taking the 'Marriage Law' into consideration", but she had never actually believed they would ever pass it. Sure, the population had taken a dramatic blow in the few years that Voldemort had taken his second reign. Thousands of lives had been easily ripped from their owners' grasps. But it would naturally replenish itself, right?

The Ministry of Magic didn't seem to think so.

It had been an entire year since the Battle of Hogwarts had passed and not a single child had been created or born in the Wizarding world. Not one.

Many were too afraid that maybe, just maybe, Voldemort would make one of his terribly spectacular returns and murder their newly born children. After all, everyone had thought him to be dead before and he came back.

But an entire year without any growth in population was severely damaging.

Hermione understood the need for such a law. But she didn't like it.

She'd read over the letter several times, trying to make sense of what was written. It was as though she were unconsciously rejecting the consideration. She felt both relieved and furious; the two emotions battled inside of her for dominance.

On one side, she should feel lucky that she hadn't been paired up by the Ministry's anonymous love guru with someone she'd never even knew existed. On the other hand, however, she thought it completely unfair. She should get a say in who she will marry and who's children she will bear.

The cons most certainly outweighed the pros in this situation. Yes, she knew him, but he was older than her. Much older. She recognized him as a father figure. Not a spouse. He'd just "returned from the dead", as the Prophet had put it. He was practically family to her. Non-sexual family. And not to mention, she was very much in love with Ron. There was absolutely no way this was going to work.

Hermione drew in a deep breath, let her eyes flutter to a gentle close and set the envelope bearing a large "M" on its cover down. She needed to calm herself.

She'd just talk this out with Kingsley and everything would be alright. It had to be.

After all, she couldn't _marry_ Sirius Black.


	2. 02

**002.**

7.29.99

_Sirius._

»

He hadn't told a soul.

For the past twenty-four hours, not one word had tumbled from his lips concerning the letter he'd recieved. Though Harry, Ron, Mrs. Weasley, and even Kreacher had requested politely to review his letter, Sirius had emotionlessly rejected each one of them and took to quickly switching into discussion of a neutral topic, such as the weather and spoke with a sense of urgency, as if talking of the weather was a life or death situation. If someone inquired about the letter's contents, Sirius would suddenly become very interested in a spot on the wall and would become so absorbed in the fascinating specimen that he would mysteriously be baffled into muteness until the subject was changed. And who could blame him? He was beyond abashed and, besides, how was he to explain such a thing anyway? _Oh, got a letter in the mail today from the Ministry. Turns out I'm being forced to marry and sleep with Hermione. _It even sounded ridiculous in his head.

It had hardly been three months since the mystery of the Veil had been solved. It had taken tons of research, Unspeakables and even lives, but they had finally figured it out. It was charmed with Dark Magic to trap souls in a sort of purgatory, not devour them. It took the Wizarding world's strongest and most skilled members to break the curse. And once it was broken, every life it had held captive was liberated. Including Sirius's.

It just angered him so. He'd spent years in Azkaban, years in hiding and then years trapped inside of a veil. The least everyone could do was allow him at least one year to enjoy his freedom. But it seemed he wasn't even going to get _half_ a year. Three months and he was already being given demands. And absurd demands at that.

Marry Hermione Granger, nineteen-year-old War hero? And impregnate her as well?

That was too much to ask of Sirius. _Much_ too much.

He was forty-one. Twenty-two years older than her. Of course _he_ could easily be sexually attracted to _her_. She was young, beautiful, intelligent, and he hadn't had a shag in over two decades. However, he knew for a fact that _she_ wouldn't find _him_ sexy in the slightest. He would be an old man to her. And family. He was _family_.

Or, at least, he may as well be.

He just couldn't be expected to do something so unbelievably ludicrous. And that is why he was now furiously snatching a palm-ful of floo powder and launching it into the fire as he practically shouted, "Ministry of Magic!"

When he arrived at his destination and made a move to step out of the fire, however, he was restrained by something. _Two _somethings. Lached onto him were two men, twice as large as he was, dragging him away from the fireplace.

"Shacklebolt isn't taking visitors," said one of the men.

Figured. He had probably been getting harrassed for the past week by angry witches and wizards. That didn't unnerve Sirius, though.

He set his jaw, tried to appear intimidating and snarled, "I _need_ to speak with Kingsley."

However, it seemed his attempt at achieving intimidation had proved futile.

The man released Sirius and was half way through putting a full body bind curse on him when Sirius shouted: "Expelliarmus!" The wand shot out of the man's hand and, to Sirius's surprise, the man just rolled his eyes.

As he went to retrieve his wand, the man grumbled about having had to do this all morning and all day yesterday. His partner chimed in with a, "I think that Hermione Granger was the worst. She was so angry, left Shacklebolt's office in tears. Wonder who she got paired with."

Sirius snapped his head around to look at the man. His heart sank into his stomach.

Hermione hadn't even been able to alter Kingsley's mind?

_Now_ he was unnerved.

If she couldn't do it, nobody could. After heaving a disappointed sigh, Sirius wrenched his arm from the man's grasp, threw him a glare and grumbled just before apparating, "She got paired with _me_."

And, once again, there he was pacing his living room.

What a quandary he was in. He hadn't even been given an ultimatum. There was nothing he could do. He had to marry her and he had to have sex with her.

Oh, how dispirited he was. He felt that the frown carved into his face had become permanent. He hadn't even _cracked_ a grin in over a day.

A cold devestation was washing over him. He halted to a stop, collapsed into his sofa and leaned his head back. A groan of dissatisfaction slithered from his lips. _Why me?_ He thought. _Why is it always me? _

He had closed his eyes and had strayed so far into his thoughts that he'd wandered to the brink of unconsciousness. He was so exhausted. The stress was taking a toll on his already fatigued mind. Now,it felt as though someone had doused his brain in oil, set it ablaze and left it to burn out. He was just slipping into a very light and much needed sleep when he was startled awake and into speech by a harsh yell.

"Sirius! Why didn't you tell us about the letter?!"

"Wha-?!"

Molly was standing before him, one hand on her hip and the other clutching an opened envelope. _His_ opened envelope.

He practically sprung to his feet and snatched the letter forcefully from Mrs. Weasley's hand, energized by a burst of panic.

His adrenaline died down as soon as it was born, though. And, breathing heavily, he fixed Molly with a stare of combined fear and lethality.

"You didn't read this, did you?"

Molly looked as though she could have killed someone. "_Yes, actually, I did._ Hermione is just a girl, Sirius! You have to go talk to Kingsley about this! We haven't heard from Hermione in days. We've tried flooing her, apparating to her flat and even using a fellytone! She won't answer us and we're fairly positive it's because of the letter you both recieved. Harry, Ginny and Ron got theirs today, you know. Harry has to marry Luna Lovegood. Ron has to marry some girl named Pansy Parkinson. And Ginny has to marry some muggleborn she's never met before! This is _ridiculous!_"

Throughout Molly's rambling and ranting, Sirius had dropped back down onto the sofa and threw the envelope down onto the floor. He bowed his head into his hands. Good Merlin, this law was ruining everyone's lives. And causing an uproar to say in the least. And exhausted. He was so exhausted.

If not for his overall, general weariness, he would have snatched Molly by the collar of her shirt, flung her out of his front door and assured her that she was not welcome back.

But he _was_ weary. Too weary to act on the anger swaying menacingly inside of him.

"I know it is. But there's nothing we can do. I went to the Ministry today. One of the guards said Hermione had been there and couldn't change Shacklebolt's mind. If she couldn't do it, nobody can."

A tense silence dawned between them. Sirius knew what Molly was thinking. His thoughts were in the same place really. What were they going to do? Did they really have any way out of this?

Sirius dipped down to grab his letter again and scan over it for what seemed like the millionth time._ Look at the positives_, he thought bitterly. At least they were permitted to divorce after they'd had three children together.

But they'd have to see each other before they could even start thinking about that. Dreading it as he was, it was inevitable.

"I'll go talk to her."

And with that, Sirius rose from the sofa and apparated on the spot to what would beome the most awkward talk he'd have had the displeasure to endure in his entire life.

«

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I apologize in advance for any grammatical errors and/or spelling errors. I type most of my chapters on mobile Google Docs. **

**Please take the time to review! I take all flames as constructive criticism! So if you hated it, tell me! But please give me a reason why so I can either reconstruct this chapter or know for future chapters.**

**Thanks again! **


	3. 03

**Warning: This chapter contains explicit content. If you are not interested in reading smut, please go elsewhere.**

**003.**

7.29.99

Sirius

»

With each rap of his knuckes on her door, his hands steadily trembled harder. He'd taken three gulps, four deep breaths, and had been nodding and muttering words of encouragement to himself for the past five minutes.

Five minutes, and he'd only just knocked on her door.

His mind was racing with thoughts - or rather worries. The anxiety felt electrifying. Paralyzing. He couldn't even assemble his wits together effeciently enough to figure out why he was currently smelling his own breath. He didn't even get around to silently scolding himself until he heard a rustle behind the door.

He instantly stiffened into perfect posture. His grip on his letter tensed dramatically. Deep breath. _You can do this._

The door opened to reveal one of the most beautiful sights he'd ever seen. To any other man she would've appeared perfectly ordinary. Drabby, even. But to Sirius, a man who had gone almost twenty years without even approaching an attractive woman, she looked like a queen.

However, her expression told him that she did _not_ want _him_ as her king.

He worked like a scale. His eyes scanned her face briefly then lowered to the ground as he lifted his hand to present to her his letter. With a shrug of his shoulder at a question that hadn't left her lips, Sirius swallowed once more, raised his gaze again and politely requested, "May I..?" His wits were scattered and he struggled frantically to assemble them into coherence. When had he, Sirius black, charmer of all women everywhere, become such a... such a... fool? He suspected the years spent nestled in restriction had unnerved him and diminished his charisma and ability to stay calm and even dazzling when interacting with a woman. He silently shook his head in disapproval at himself. He'd known this girl - woman - for years; why was he so terrified to look into her chocolate brown eyes?

He found the answer the moment he glanced at her face. Hermione's expression was vacant and stony and her eyes, though still beautifully consoling, cradled a darting, unyielding and insuppressible anxiousness. Her lip caught between her teeth as she took a step back to make room for Sirius to enter into her flat, he noticed. With one last soundless, deep inhale, Sirius strolled in, hands trembling, facade crumbling, and gaze struggling to keep from straying back to the woman. Because that was all that she was. Just a woman. With eyes, hair, a face, arms, a stomach, legs, feet. Just a woman. Or, at least, that's what Sirius wished she was.

In all actuality, she was more than just a woman. She was a strong woman. A beautiful, strong, willing, confident, intellectual woman. A woman who Sirius knew that now, being forced to marry her, he would find himself unable to resist her as he'd take much delight in. It was simply impossible.

The silence between them was swollen with curdled anxiety. But so was the attraction, denied by both as it may be.

She was trained on his every move and it didn't seem like she would be the one to crack the silence and shimmy into a discussion so, Sirius concluded, he would have to be the one to do it. After all, he hadn't come to stand and avoid her gaze for a few hours. His palm glided across his chin, debatingly rubbing the stubble.

"Hermione." The word was dragged out of his mouth in much the same way a cat would lug its large prey across the ground. Slowly and with struggle. His thoughts had slowed and basic sentences began to formulate inside of his mind. Soon enough, he felt the familiar sense of his coherence connecting back together and pulsing alive.

Through the logic, however, he couldn't shake the muffled echoing of a night that never existed, where he found himself groaning that very name to the heated pants of an aroused woman. An aroused, intelligent, witty, ex-Gryffindor woman to be more specific.

Once Sirius had turned to face her, he noticed that she too was standing taller and even curling her arms around her lithe frame. "Sirius," she acknowledged, completely unreadable.

She definitely wasn't going to make this any easier on him.

He heaved a sigh and rubbed the back of his neck. Should he continue to try? Would it be worth it? Did she rather go to Azkaban than abide by the law, become his wife and bare his children? He hadn't a clue. But every fiber of his being willed him forward, and so forward he went. He took long strides up to her. For a moment, he just stared down blankly into her eyes. Then it started.

His lips, burning with desire, crashed down onto hers fervently. He took her face into his hands and then their lips danced. They waltzed, sweetly and furiously all at once. They mingled and spurted with liveliness. Until suddenly, in one fluid and desperate motion, Hermione shoved Sirius away and forced their lips to part.

Her lips were slightly swollen now and a scarlet tint was spreading like liquid on a solid surface in her cheeks. The sight was more than easy on the eyes.

"What do you thi-" She started furiously.

But he intervened, his veins throbbing with adrenaline.

"What did you feel? Anything?"

She blinked and seemed to gather her diffused thoughts. With a huff and an almost dejected roll of her eyes, she shook her head. Sirius wasn't sure if she was acting as though she were angry with him, or if she actually was. And if she was, he wondered why. "Panicked." She paused, noticeably becoming tranquil with exhaustion. Her shoulders slumped; her stance relaxed sadly. "I felt panicked. And confused."

Sirius couldn't help but chuckle. It seemed he was dealing with a naive one.

"No, no, I _meant_, did you feel the 'sparks'? The 'fireworks'?"

"Oh..." Hermione lapsed into silence for several moments before abruptly snapping at Sirius. "No, of course I didn't! You're tens of years older than me! Why in the Devil would I feel 'sparks' when kissing you?! This is so ridiculous!" She tossed her hands in the air and gave a little scream of frustration. She began to pace before him, settling into a rant. "I even went to that bastard! I begged him! I _pleaded_ for him to pair me with someone else! '_No_,' he said! '_He's the best match for you._' I requested to speak with the Ministry's bonkers 'love guru', try to convince him or her to pair me with someone else, and instead I got a bloody _worthless_, _pitiful_ _apology card! _Can you believe the audacity of those inconsiderate... inconsiderate... _arseholes_!? We save all of their lives and_ this_ is how they repay us! I mean, _really_, how the _hell_ can they expect me to marry you?! And-and... and..." She trailed off, but Sirius knew what she was getting at. 'And have sex with you.' He finished her sentence silently in his head. Her chest was heaving and her eyes were alight with her fury and resentment toward the ministry. It looked like she'd been needing to get all of this off her chest.

Full understanding this, Sirius reached out to rest a consoling hand on her shoulder. However, to his slight shock, she shrugged it off violently and rounded on him. He retracted his hand quickly and took an almost fearful step back. From experience, he knew that size did not always determine strength.

"Don't touch me! It's sick! You're... sick!" She snapped, her face crimson and her eyes welling with angry tears.

Though nearly every one of her previous comments had insulted him, this one really struck a nerve in Sirius.

"You think I wanted this?!" He shouted in her face, his glare piercing. "I didn't ask for this! I don't like this either! I don't want to marry you, or have sex with you-" Hermione visibly cringed at the thought. "-or have children with you! I swear to Merlin, Hermione! You act like I _asked_ to be paired with you! You don't have to insult me!"

"I'm _not _insulting you!" Hermione screeched, her hands balling into fists.

Sirius knew she wasn't actually angry with him. She was angry with the Ministry and involuntarily taking her frustrations out on him. But he needed to vent his own chagrin, so he returned the favour.

"Hermione! Listen to yourself! You're fucking standing there calling me sick! If you don't think that's an insult, you're thicker than I thought!"

Hermione gasped and, with a moment's notice, was delirious with fury. "I am _not _thick! I was the smartest in my class! The smartest in the entire school! And watch your language!"

"I'll use profanities if I want to!"

"Not in my house!"

"Then I'll leave!" Sirius shouted.

He was halfway to the door before he suddenly spun around, yanked her to him and vigorously forced his lips onto hers. To his surprise, she didn't fight the action. Quite the contrary. It seemed to Sirius, that she was welcoming it, and welcoming it eagerly. Her arms wound up around his neck and she pulled herself flush to him. His hands found her hips and he pushed her back, up against the nearest wall. His ire was fueling him and everything seemed to be coming naturally to him, despite having been abstinent for two decades. But, of course, he hadn't wanted to be.

Now, as his tongue slipped into her mouth to glide over hers, he knew the night would be eventful. And then, after hitching her legs up around his waist, he realized that Hermione wasn't as naive as he'd inferred. She was desperately grinding herself against him and practically begging for him to strip her of her clothing.

And strip her he did.

He pulled her from the wall and stumbled through her flat. He'd meant to find her room. Instead, he found her kitchen. It would have to do. He couldn't wait any longer.

He brought her to the nearest empty counter and got to work. He practically tore the white blouse from her body, causing little buttons to scatter everywhere. He stepped back and straddled her legs. He tore the skirt off of her and, with her help, every article of clothing they'd been wearing was haphazardly tossed around her kitchen in minutes.

Through this lusty mess, Sirius _had _stopped to acknowledge just how beautiful Hermione was. Even more so now that she was nude. All anger left him and in its wake grew a swelling aroused affection for her.

But that was quickly shoved away by sexual craving.

Their lips moved viciously with each other; their tongues danced expertly and vivaciously. His mind was fogged with lust and his body was throbbing with arousal. He felt like a teenager again. Only now, he was a man. And he wasn't going to do Hermione like a teenage boy. He was going to do her like a man. Roughly, dirty and sinfully.

The moment he entered her, what little remains of his coherence fled from him. He stared deep into her eyes, thrusting into her slowly at first. He could feel her nails digging into his back. And her lips, parted and swollen, were dryly begging for him to go faster. He wanted her to shut up. He wanted to focus on the pleasure throbbing in his stimulated erection. He'd never had bare sex before. He never knew it felt so amazing. He wanted to enjoy it. Without pleading. So he kissed her. And pounded into her vigorously.

He didn't know how long the night had been dragging on. He didn't care either.

They were hardly kissing anymore. Their tongues were just ferociously rubbing against each other as Sirius shoved himself in and out of Hermione. Her breaths were hot and her moans were even hotter. With every vicious, deep thrust, they climbed to an orgasm together. And when they finally reached it, it was like an explosion. Sirius exploded inside of Hermione, sending his seed deep into her.

They both held their breath, mouths open and eyes closed. Then... it was over.

For awhile, they just stared into each other's eyes, until Hermione exhaled softly and rested her forehead against Sirius's shoulder. Niether of them were angry anymore. Both were lingering in bliss.

Sirius, unlike how he'd handled her during their sex, gently took her into his arms. He carried her through the flat with her arms hooked around his neck, looking for her bedroom. Once he found it, he strolled in and lay her down on her bed. After slipping under the covers beside her and pressing a soft kiss to her lips, he stared up at her ceiling. His mind now held only one thought. He'd just had sex with Hermione. And he loved it.

«

**A/N: First, I apologize for any spelling and/or grammatical errors. **

**Second, I'd greatly appreciate it if you would review! Constructive criticism is welcomed!**

**Also, I apologize for not updating in so long. To make it up to you guys, I gave a longer chapter. It took me two and a half hours to write, so I hope you enjoyed. I'm also not very good smut, so sorry about that too, lol. I didn't want to get too graphic.**


	4. 04

**004.**

7.30.99

_Hermione_

»

Her eyes were glossy with tears that she hadn't shed. Her head was pounding with a hangover that she didn't drink herself into. Her muscles ached with fatigue of a workout she hadn't planned. Most mornings, she was awoken by her vividly terrifying nightmares. Not this morning. This morning, she woke feeling fully rested and without fear. Instead, regret was flooding her. And disgust. She was so disgusted with herself... with Sirius. Her body had betrayed her. She'd wanted to shove the man away, but every time she tried she just ended up pulling him closer. And now here she lay, nude and curled up against him. Even now, her body still ignored all logic. She craved his warmth and the scent of his bare skin was filling her nostrils. She'd never smelled something so wonderful. She'd never felt something so amazing.

Of course, she was a virgin. She was Hermione, the bookworm. Not Hermione, the slut. But she supposed now she was a slut, or, at least, in her own eyes she was. Everyone else would just view what she did as abiding by the law. She viewed it as going against her morals. They hadn't even used protection.

She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing more than anything to just disappear into thin air. But she didn't. She was still nestled against Sirius, her head resting gently on his inked chest and her lithe frame cradled by his arms. She listened to his breathing. Inhale, one second, exhale. Inhale, one second, exhale. Inhale, one second, exhale. She pondered as to how she could be both frantically anxious and perfectly tranquil all at once. She came up short with an answer.

For a long while, she just stared up at his stubbly chin, her mind blank. It wasn't until a ray of sunlight leaked through the window's curtains that she finally and gently pulled herself away from Sirius. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around herself. She was completely naked in front of a man that was not her father. She felt beyond uncomfortable. Hermione knew he'd seen it all already, but she still couldn't help herself. Luckily, her movement hadn't woken Sirius and she managed to make it to the bathroom without disrupting him. The last thing she wanted to do right now was confront him. Just thinking about how uncomfortable it would be shot a shiver down her spine.

Peering down at her body, Hermione caught her lower lip between her teeth. She had bruises caked on her inner thighs. Her gaze lifted to the mirror. Her hair was wild, her lips were swollen and parted, and hiding on her neck was a dark hickey.

She groaned and covered her face with her hands, her stomach churning.

How could she have acted so foolishly? She should have shoved him away, told him to get out of her apartment, demanded he never come back. But she didn't. She wanted to beat herself up. But Sirius had already done that, and she'd loved it.

Shaking her head, she snatched a hair tie and pulled the mess that she called hair up haphazardly. She splashed water on her face, willing herself to wake from this horrible nightmare. She didn't want to believe that this was reality. She'd already dealt with enough, what with fighting in the Battle of Hogwarts. This was just the icing on the cake. Or, rather, the icing in her cervix.

Unwillingly, Hermione silently opened the door again, peeked out to ensure that Sirius hadn't woken yet, then tip-toed over to steal a sheet from her bed and wrap it around her body. This time, however, she did disrupt the man.

He snored loudly, abruptly. As he lifted his arms out from underneath the sheet to stretch them, he blinked open his eyes. Hermione froze, as if she'd been caught doing something despicable. Her own eyes were wide and observing. Her heart was hammering in her chest. She wasn't ready to talk to him yet. She was dreading it.

When Sirius's gaze focused on Hermione, he cracked a small smile. "Good morning," he greeted, his voice deeper than usual with lingering fatigue.

"...Morning." Hermione responded, hesitantly sitting down on the bed beside him. Small talk. Good. She still had to collect her thoughts for when they discussed the previous night, _if_ they did.

"Did you sleep well?" Sirius yawned, sitting up as well.

"Mhm." Hermione nodded before pursing her lips. She could almost feel the tension in the air. She tried to avoid his dark eyes. She'd stared into them far too much the night before.

Sirius cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. He hesitated before turning to Hermione and scanning her face with concern. "I didn't hurt you at all, did I?"

At his question, Hermione finally looked at Sirius. He was worried that he'd _hurt_ her? She blinked, her eyebrows tugging together in confusion. "No, it... um," she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear awkwardly, her gaze dropping and her cheeks reddening. "It felt good actually," she admitted sheepishly. "I am a little... sore though."

Sirius grinned slightly, conspicuously embarrassed as well. "I'm sorry. I just, uh... I haven't done that in a long, long time. I might have went overboard."

Hermione shook her head, disagreeing. "If you went overboard then I'm glad you did. It was amazing." Somehow, she felt both frigid and relaxed all at once. She felt closer to Sirius now. He was no longer a father figure to her. He was no longer someone who she solely viewed as a friend. All anxiety washed away from her. It seemed easier now to look at him, hear his gentle voice, accept him and what they had done. She couldn't say that she was alright with what was going on, but she could say that she no longer was entirely opposed to it.

A smile of her own tugged at her lips, despite the embarrassment flitting around inside of her. She was feeling daring, and curious. But most of all, she was feeling the effects of Oxytocin.

Before Sirius could respond, Hermione climbed into his lap, weaved her fingers through his hair and gently molded her lips to his. She could tell he was surprised by her action by the way he tensed. Soon enough, the tension died down and he rested his hands on her waist, returning her kiss eagerly. Their lips mingled just as they had done the day before and before they knew it, they were connecting their bodies once again. This time, Hermione did not feel rueful. She did not feel disgusted. She felt blissful.

As the two were laying back down in bed together, somehow they fell into discussion about the war. They spoke for hours, comforting one another, expressing opinions, expressing agreements. Hermione told him all about what happened after he'd been trapped in the Veil, and Sirius told her all about what happened before she was even born. They went on and on, talking all day about everything - Hogwarts, Professors, Harry, the Weasleys, Voldemort, their home lives. Sharing one particular event concerning the erasing of her parents' memory of her, brought Hermione to tears.

It was as Sirius was holding Hermione and pressing a kiss to her head as tears slid down her cheeks that she realized it.

The Ministry of Magic was right. They were a perfect match.

* * *

**A/N: I'm so sorry this is so short! And I'm sorry I haven't updated in awhile! I've been going through a lot lately and haven't had the will or the time to get on FanFiction. But now I'm back and ready to continue writing. **

**(If you don't know what Oxytocin is, it's the "love" hormone released in women when they have sex, give birth, or breastfeed.)**

**Please review! No flames, please. If you didn't like it, tell me what you didn't like and suggest how I'd fix it. Constructive criticism is my best friend.**


End file.
